


if the sky's gray, it's ok

by aestheticisms (R_Vienna)



Category: The iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Nightmares, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Canon, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Vienna/pseuds/aestheticisms
Summary: Shiki disappears every now and then. Asuka makes sure someone's there to open the door. Frederica makes sure everyone's doing their best.





	1. welcome home

"The night seems to plague you. You reek of it."

Asuka shoves her small, gloved hands into the safety of her parka pockets. She makes sure not to bury her nose into the flurry of scarves, checkered and plaid, wrapped around her neck. Strands of purple weave in and out of the fabrics, the rest of her hair is a mess of colors. She was going to get it redone, soon, soonest, but not tonight. Not tonight. Her bag was on the living room floor, on top of Frederica's stupid throw blanket. Her keys were somewhere else.

It didn't really matter.

Shiki Ichinose, _Shiki-san_ , she has to remember the honorific because it's hard, when it comes to her. Rumors about her existence spread around the agency for a few weeks after her induction. No one knows if it's true if she can speak seven languages, but she seems to have a good time teasing Anastasia--Anya. But after that novelty wore off, she dipped in and out like an alley cat, leaving everyone wondering where she skulked off to. Even after the years went by and the live shows blew up, she still came and went as she pleased. It was frustrating, at the time, Asuka remembers. But now, it's a fact of their shared life. 

Nothing else.

"Haha, that's an Asu-greeting! I've missed those~" Shiki tilts her head, her hair tumbles to the side. When was the last time she washed it. Asuka tries not to scrunch up her nose but she does anyway and Shiki laughs. Nasally and high pitched, like she's struggling to breath with every cackle.

"You stink."

"A little better. Aren't ya gonna ask where I've been, Asu-chan?"

Asuka can't get used to the stupid nickname. She goes scarlet, and shoves down a "how dare you speak to me in that familiar tone" or a "it's been four years, let the stupid thing go", she's already yelled at Frederica about it and was met with Thing 2's relentless snorting.

"No. Just shower, or something. It's bad enough Frederica-san smells like candy all the time. It makes my head hurt."

Asuka turns away, and heads out of the living room, further into the apartment that belongs to neither of them. Asuka's renting it for school, Frederica's never home, and Shiki crashes on the couch once in a blue moon, when she graces everyone in 346 with her presence. Stupid Shiki.

She yawns, and smiles sheepishly. Asuka's never seen such a modest expression on someone who's more of a haughty smirk.

"Sorry, it's been a long week."

Asuka knows.

"Did you find what you wanted?"

For someone who was going to bed, she doesn't do much, she doesn't stop Shiki from wrapping her arms around her waist, and burying her nose into Asuka's jacket. She breathes in, and Asuka thinks, it's not that bad, you don't smell that bad either and it's okay.

You can stop being lost.

But she doesn't say any of it. Shiki's old enough to do what she wants. Asuka's not the fourteen year old who followed her down the rabbit hole. She's not the flouride Shiki loves so much. She's changed. She's had to.

"I found somethin, all right."

Shiki laughs, soft and kind and awful all the same. She lets go of Asuka and taps her back, pushing her forward.

"Sorry for wakin' you up."

Like Asuka was going to sleep without seeing Shiki home.

"Whatever. Shower."

Shiki waves her hand nonchalantly and Asuka finally leaves the living room behind.


	2. night songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Asuka has a nightmare, Frederica's the one to help her go back to sleep.

The nightmares are the easy part, waking up, that’s all fine. Frederica knows the procedure, she usually has a glass of milk in the refrigerator ready to be microwaved and sent off to Asuka’s bedroom. It’s the least she could do, she’s no good at making comfort food (their definition of comfort differs on every level, Shiki- _chan’s_ the only one who can mediate their extremes). Taking care of other people, Frederica could do that, in her own over the top _Fure-fure_ way. It is her specialty.

Tonight, it was different. Of course it was. Shiki was back home, finally home, she’s sleeping under Frederica’s comforters, and she’s hogging all the pillows. It was hard enough wiggling out of her embrace, nose buried in the folds of Frederica’s tank top. She mumbled something like _Fre_ - _chan_ , _come_ _back to bed_ , and Frederica shushed her with a quick kiss on the lips. _You need your rest~, it’ll only take a second_ , she tries to appease Shiki with her sweetest lilt but it does little to wipe the furrow from Shiki’s brow.

So, Frederica leaves the room behind her and tip toes down the hall to where Asuka sleeps. She knocks on the door, as requested in their housemate agreement form years ago. She knocks twice, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, careful not to spill the glass of warm milk. She tucks a strand of honey blonde behind her ear, and then when she’s almost sure she would go mad from the silence, Asuka opens the door.

Her eyes are rimmed with red, eyelids puffy. Frederica is already doing damage control, thinking about what facial routine to recommend and what eye masks to donate.

“Miyamoto-san…”

That just about does it, Frederica bounces into the room and leaves the glass of a milk on a nightstand before wrapping up Asuka in atight hug. 

“We said no more last names! Miyamoto is for people who aren’t my friends! And you Asu-chan, are a cherished one~!” Frederica laughs and she tries to ease the girl's tense shoulders and wary stance. Asuka melts into her arms with little fight, she sighs against her uncovered shoulder. _You’re_ _right_ is a quiet murmur. Frederica strokes Asuka’s hair back and leads her back to bed, making sure to tuck her in despite being eighteen and twenty three, it’s a tough habit to break, and she sits down at the foot, tilting her head.

“Sorry.” Asuka fiddles with the blankets and almost covers herself completely with them. Frederica smiles softly.

“It’s okay~ nothing to worry about. You got me and Shiki-chan here! We’re always up for spoiling you, hee hee.”

Asuka flushes and her expression changes to something more pouty.

“Thank you for the milk.”

“It’s not a big deal~ the hardest part is going back to sleep, you know?”

“Unfortunately.”

Asuka doesn’t touch the glass and instead lies on her side.

“I can sing~ if you’d like?” Frederica starts humming _la rosaire'_ s collaboration piece from years ago and Asuka throws a pillow at her.

“That’s enough, thank you. Honestly.”

Frederica giggles and gets up from her bed. She makes sure to close the door behind her and scurry back to her room.

Asuka never asks her how she knows, or why she’s always there, at the ready. While Frederica gets ready to go back to sleep, one arm draped over Shiki’s waist, she mulls it over. She twirls pieces of wine-red hair around her fingers and thinks more. Hmm, hmm. She would’ve made Shiki laugh, if she was awake, seeing her so serious. She’s never been able to sit still for so long, only in bed is she able to think.

Maybe, maybe~

May~be it’s because Frederica knows what it’s like to be lonely too? She doesn’t want Asuka to have to go through it alone. They’ve been sharing this apartment for so long, so many years with and without Shiki Ichinose, and sometimes, Frederica thinks, when she’s able to show another expression aside from a smile, it’s a home filled with secrets. Asuka’s words, soft and gentle, Frederica’s frowns, filled with something other than glee, and Shiki’s disappearing acts, they are all bound together here.

Frederica sighs, just a little bit. She will let herself. It’s been too long since she’s been able to get a good night’s rest, and nestled in Shiki’s arm, she hopes that Asuka is able to sleep well, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're all good beans 
> 
> \-- angie @oceanblogging


	3. long island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanade takes Shiki out to lunch. She's hoping to get something more than a high-pitched nyahaha~ this time.

“What do you dream about?”

“Oh? That’s an interesting question, Kanade-chan. Are you worried about my sleeping habits?”

Shiki leans over the cafe table and laces her fingers together. She rests her chin on top of them, and tilts her head. Her hair moves with her, and Kanade almost wants to reach over and push it back, she’s going to get hair over her drink, or worse, her meal. How unsightly. It’s been years since their initial meeting behind her high school’s gymnasium, years since their debut as idols, but despite all the time and distance, Kanade couldn’t believe how uninterested Shiki was with appearances. For someone so decorated in travels and honors, she who was made up of so many languages and histories, Shiki was a complete and utter slob.

“No, of course not. I tend to worry about who I’m sleeping with before I worry about others.” Kanade returns Shiki’s quizzical glance with something wry. There’s no point in playing cat and mouse with a scientist, she’s doing her own calculations.

“Ah, is it because you’re like a mom, then? Is that why you're asking?”

A pause. Kanade sips her long island ice tea.

“Please don’t call me ‘mom’, it really makes the other guests wonder.”

Shiki laughs, airy and ugly, and leans back into the booth. She gets comfortable, stretches her legs out and puts her feet on Kanade’s lap. How childish. Kanade tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and starts to rework her question. She’s not interested in Shiki’s health at all (a lie), she is interested in her relationships (a little less of a lie). Shiki Ichinose disappeared from public eye and from private conversation for months, and now that she’s back from wherever she went, she was living with an eighteen year old. It didn’t make for good press. There was Frederica too, but where Shiki went Frederica followed and it was even more jarring that they were apart for so long. Kanade and Mika used to joke they were conjoined twins, or even worse, willingly stitched at the hip. Fumika would eventually discuss the possibility of either option being terribly slim, and it would lead to Arisu joining the conversation, hiding behind some bookshelf, to school them all. Asuka would then drop a line about the philosophy of friendship, and the lack of logic that guided it. Joint practice sessions for CAERULA and MK were a little annoying, but Kanade kept things running smoothly.

Regardless.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about your reputation here, Kanade-chan. They’re all used to my antics by now.” Shiki goes glassy eyed for a moment, and Kanade would have missed the way she shuts down, locks herself up within her head, if she blinked. The second after she’s bright and bubbly again. “It’s my favorite cafe, after all.”

She waves a waiter down.

"Can I get another slice of pizza? I’ll be keeping the Tabasco!”

The Tabasco bottle has been part of their conversation since they walked in. Even if Shiki didn’t ask for it, Kanade’s sure they would have it ready for her. The boy nods, he’s a little younger than they are. Kanade wonders if he’s stuck to the job because of all the girls from the agency.

“He’s dating the assistant director on Frederica’s show.”

Shiki waves her hand, like it’s not a big deal. Kanade does her best to hide a sigh. She’s good at that, she must be. Another sip. She thinks about the first question again, how she hasn’t been able to get a word in since the fact. Talking to Shiki was like playing shogi, and that was something she couldn’t charm her way out of. In high school, she used to lean forward and bat her lashes, and this was a requirement for her life as an idol. Outside of her professional life, however, it was a little more difficult. People were difficult. If they were as perceptive as Shiki, they saw through the act.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

“As charming as that sounds,” Kanade picks her words carefully, “Believe it or not, I might be a little worried.”

Shiki’s busied herself with making a tower out of straw wrappers. She’s completely ignored her strawberry lemonade.

“Hmm.”

“Is that all?”

“Hmm? Is there anything else to say about that?”

Shiki scrunches up her nose, her brow furrows, and she sits back up, clearly unimpressed by her architectural feat. It’s a pile of garbage in the middle of the table. She even overturned the flower vase.

“A lot of people are worried. They tell me all the time.”

Kanade arches a brow.

“Fre-chan worries the most. She won’t ever admit it, but it’s easy to tell with her.”

Shiki’s voice takes a dreamy quality that makes Kanade shiver. There’s a sense of detachment that scares her. Kanade reaches over the table and takes her hand. She really hates doing this (another half truth but she has an image and it’s not one of kindness or sisterhood, but Shiki Ichinose always made her think about a world beyond her caramel coated words and marshmallow voice. She was the one who called it that, first, brought it to her attention. Are you trying to go for husky? You sound like a campfire.) so…frustrating. Not annoying, that would be childish, and Kanade has long outgrown that. She picks up her drink again, twirls the mixing straw around, and then takes another sip.

“Do you like making people worry?”

“Oh, no. I really don’t.”

Shiki picks at her nails.

“It just happens. It’s always been like that. People just get used to it, and I get to come and go as I please.”

Kanade waits for an elaboration. She does not get one. Instead, Shiki stretches her arms up, and the waiter arrives with her fourth slice of pizza. She eagerly accepts it and starts to eat, but not before slathering it with Tabasco sauce.

“Check, please.” the waiter nods at Kanade’s query, and returns with the leather-bound book. Kanade gives him her card, and he leaves again.

“You didn’t have to pay for both of us, mom.” Shiki says this in between bites of pizza. Kanade keeps herself from getting up and wiping her face. How unsightly. She finishes her drink, and Shiki downs her lemonade. There’s nothing left at the table except for empty plates and glasses. The silverware is neatly stacked on top of each other, courtesy of Shiki.

“Consider it my treat.”

“I can’t consider it your treat when you already paid.”

“Then, don’t consider it a treat. Repay me by paying your rent on time this month. I heard Ninomiya’s been covering for you.”

Shiki crosses her arms over her chest. They’re on their way out of the cafe, she’s already said goodbye to the waitstaff. They pause outside the door, next to the windows, and Kanade watches Shiki think. Her brow’s furrowed, her lips are pursed, and Kanade can see the gears turning.

“Asu-chan’s too nice.”

That’s it.

“Well, it’s up to you, ultimately.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to be called mom, you sure act like one. Go home, Kanade. Get Fumi-chan to twist you into a pretzel.”

Shiki laughs, her ugly, high-pitched giggle. Kanade sighs, and smiles wryly.

“I’ll be sure to let her know your plans for us.”

“See you, then. Byeonara, Kanade.”

Shiki waves her hand, and turns on her heel. She disappears in the bustling street. Kanade takes out her phone, she presses a few buttons while she walks to the train station.

“Hello?”

“Fumika.”

“Kanade. It’s rare of you to call the library line.”

Kanade floats past the turnstile, she swipes the commuter pass and whispers into the phone line. Fumika laughs on the other side.

“Send Ichinose my regards, I’ll be sure to follow her advice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> positive correlation between angie writing and angie having a paper due the next day  
> \--angie @oceanblogging


	4. if you are arcturus, then--

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asuka comes home to a particularly bad game of Twister.

Running a hand through her short, orange hair, she stuffs a postcard into her bag. Asuka found it wedged in the letter slot, like someone wasn’t sure if it should be visible, or if it should go all the way through. London’s skyline was gray dusk and points of intersection, but it didn’t incite any sort of excitement in her. A sense of melancholy, yes. Something that bubbled up in her throat, and something she didn’t think she could associate with—

The door, right, no need to dwell, she was coming home. She fumbles with her keys.

“Genius girl.”

“Asu-chaaaan. Welcome, welcome home.”

“Asu-chan!”

Shiki and Frederica are a tangle of limbs and hair, Asuka almost wants to turn around and leave their shared apartment the moment she walks in. Playing Twister in the middle of summer, sure, fine. Playing strip Twister, in the middle of winter with the curtains open wide and a bundle of designer brand clothes spread over the living room—not so great. Not so fine. She stuffs her hands into her army green jacket, and a breath escapes through gritted teeth.

“Fre.”

Frederica smiles, bright and unnerving. Her manicured wave is ignored with a shake of head. Her eyes are too big, too big for her doll face and expensive makeup. Asuka can never hold her stare for too long, she makes her feel like she’s being x-rayed, so she shifts her disappointed glare to the apartment’s number one instigator. Shiki’s apparently decided to completely botch their game, she collapses and lands on Frederica’s back, her hair in knots and her chest spilling out of a ratty bra. This is ridiculous, Asuka wants to snap. It’s the middle of December, the heat's off because no one in this stupid house wants to pay the extra couple hundred yen, there is no reason for Shiki to have such threadbare outfits anyways, she makes the most out of all of them, in between think tank work and idol work, she should be dressed in layers of gold, but no, instead of formulating any of her real complaints into a string of letters and phrases, Asuka Ninomiya drops her bag on the dirty coffee table and walks past their forgotten game. She sidesteps the plastic game mat on her way to the kitchen, rummages through the refrigerator, and takes a seat at the kitchen table with a glass of iced tea.

There’s a rustle from the living room and Frederica, in her new fur coat and bralette, takes the seat next to Asuka. Shiki floats between hallway and kitchen pantry, but makes no effort to make herself more decent. Unsurprising, still annoying.

“Did you have a good day today, Asu-chan? You had that job with Koume-chan and Mirei-chan!” Frederica babbles in an effort to strike conversation, and Asuka stares at her glass like it’ll make an answer easier to formulate. The job went well. It was a little boring, textbook stuff, they’re all patrons of the same alternative fashion magazine, Asuka was their covergirl last month, and this month they wanted some collaboration between their favorite models (save for their dark idol and unholy queen). Koume, still petite, still gaunt, with paler hair and longer nails, was made for gaudy concept shoots, with dramatic set pieces and hundreds of onyx beads threaded into organza and lace. Mirei was more popular on street fashion blogs and those outfit of the day Twitters, she made her own rave accessories and strung LED lights onto anything she could get her claws on. In between them, Asuka seemed like a sensible dip into the unknown, something sweet about philosophy, something cool about music. This particular shoot wasn’t bad, they had an alleyway in Shinjuku all to themselves and Koume looked like someone ripped out of Märchen and Mirei was ready to debut her EDM remix at an American music festival. Asuka, meanwhile, was...

Well, she was Asuka. Her extensions were neon blue, her outfit was ripped at every seam, and her boots were unlaced. Something something about rebelling against norms, or whatever. They were too old to play these games. She sighs into her glass. Shiki’s joined them by now, interrupting the awkward silence with the sound of a beer can opening. Asuka doesn’t remember the last time she bought any to replace the Sapporo six-pack from three months ago.

“It was fine.”

The blonde hums, and Shiki digs her elbows into the vinyl tabletop.

“Ooh? Did you get to keep anything?”

“No. I already owned some of the pieces we used.” She thinks back to the pentagram bag she got to model. 

“That’s too bad~ My favorite part about fashion spreads was raiding the closet after the shoot.” There’s a whine to Frederica’s saccharine lilt, but it’s followed by quiet as she tends to her juice. Asuka swings her legs, the soles of her feet graze the linoleum, and she wishes she kept her socks on. Ugh.

Ugh. These pleasantries were leading nowhere.

“Hey, Asu-chan. Did you call Ranko-chan back?”

Asuka really hates the way Shiki leers at her from across the table, beer can hanging from the edge of her painted lips. Her lipstick is all over her cheek. She’s got alcohol dripping from her chin down to her chest. Her stupid bra and her stupid American high school gym shorts, Shiki Ichinose is an ugly packrat and she says the worst things. Frederica tilts her head, pinks lips forming a sentence, an _Oh, what’s this?,_ but before she has a chance to voice her query, Asuka gets up. She bangs her knee against the table, and curses, but it doesn’t stop her descent.

“She came by earlier, we invited her to play, but she said something about wanting to meet a fallen angel’s escort.” Shiki drags the words out through the kitchen, and if Asuka turns around now, she loses. It’s simple. The postcard was more than enough to end this discussion. She hasn’t called Ranko Kanzaki because she doesn’t know what to say. Her tongue gets all tied up, they’ve been unsteady for weeks now, conversations trail off with an " _I'll see you in paradise,_ and " _If heaven has room for one more, then our chariot will tear the gate open."_  A litany of stars and strife, capsized into 140 character text messages.

There’s nothing wrong, really. There’s no need for this overreaction. Asuka Ninomiya, turn around and explain yourself, right now. It’s easy. It’s easy, to open your mouth, honest, she can hear Ranko’s soft laugh against her ears, against her neck, she can see her silver hair threaded around her fingers. No, there’s nothing wrong with them. They’ve been on and off for years, not out of hard feelings, work is work, Ranko travels. She was in England, was in England, because now she was back, and she visited their apartment, probably dressed for a beautiful tea party with the dead.

Ah, jeez. What complicated feelings. Asuka turns to face the pair in the kitchen, she stares them down. Her facade is undone by the fact she’s twisting and pulling at her extensions, really wishing she was anywhere else but under the hand of the pink inquisition.

“I’ll call her tonight, _Mother_.”

Shiki feigns hurt, she clutches at fake pearls, there’s nothing but air for her hands to grasp but the drama doesn’t end there. Frederica leans over, stage gasp in hand.

“Jeez, Shiki-chan, you really upset her now.”

“Fre-chan, Fre-chan, it’s only natural, she’s in her rebellious phase~”

Thing One and Thing Two were obnoxious, and that would never change. Asuka stalks off to her room, and throws her jacket onto her bed, following suit.

Her phone’s fallen to the floor, and there’s a gentle wind chime, notifying her of a message. She’s almost scared to look at it. It can be dealt with at a later time. There was no need to concern herself. Not tonight, at least. She pulls out a notebook from the crevice between the wall and her bed frame, its black cover is covered in roses and feathers, it’s a shared project. Asuka sits up to flip through the lined pages, until her acrylic nail points out a page near the end of the book. It’s an unfinished letter.

Asuka sighs, and sets it back down.

She’s gotten complacent.

The ceiling beckons her, asks her to continue.

“Where did this hesitation come from?”

She knows the answer. She doesn’t want to answer. Instead, a rustle of sheets and a comforter over her head. Her phone in her hand, a familiar number against her skin.

“It’s almost the witching hour.”

“There’s still a little time left before the spell breaks, Ranko.”

.

.

.

Theirs is a story that melts into stardust.


	5. and so she went to the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiki gets another offer abroad. A scientist without a laboratory is only a fool playing god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuhhhHhh can i get a mutually destructive shikiasu,

Before the midnight sun could make an appearance in this fairy tale, Shiki Ichinose was stirring her own brand of witch’s brew.

She was bored, as was the case in the colder season. She got anxious. Antsy, hands through her hair, fingers digging into her scalp when they weren’t in her mouth, teeth tearing into nails. Her attention was a fickle thing, and if things weren’t interesting enough, she tried her hardest to make them so, lest abandon it in her pursuit for more, more, and more.

Ne-ver-the-less.

 _God, if you’re out there,_ she writes on a piece of scrap paper, in sparkly glitter gel pen. She stole a couple from Frederica’s work desk, in the living room, pressed against the only wall with decorations. Outside of idol work, Fre-chan was working hard as a fashion designer, but she always had to buy new supplies because Shiki was a terrible roommate who hid them in drawers and suitcases and forgot to return them.

It was too bad.

She yawns, stretching her arms out in the air. Her hand at song writing is forgotten. The apartment was cold, she could hear Asuka’s complaint in the back of her head, maybe she should call the maintenance guy and get the heater back. Her bathrobe hangs onto her by a miracle of god, her slippers are long gone in the mess that is her bedroom, but she makes her way to the kitchen and floats from one corner to the other. Nothing in particular catches her interest, but she sees a note addressed to her on the refrigerator, so, maybe she could start with that.

> **MS. SHIKI ICHINOSE:**  
> 
> _We are happy to congratulate you on your acceptance to—_

Ah. What a pain.

Shiki tears it apart from the magnet and throws it to the floor. After a couple more seconds, the torn pieces float and ebb before landing inelegantly all over the linoleum flooring. The scratched surface mocks her, and her achievement. It doesn’t really matter to her, she thinks, rummaging for a beer can in the pearl white refrigerator. It’s empty, for the most part. A couple of take out boxes, some vegetables here and there, a long forgotten green tea chiffon cake from the bakery down the road. Shiki considers, for a moment, a moment of weakness, opening up the cardboard box and cutting herself a slice, but her death wish isn’t so grand, or so desperate. She scrunches her nose. 

She closes the door, without her coveted beer can. They haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while. Did she drink the last one? Hmm. A shame, really. Her gaze traces the kitchen, until it lands on the rest of her acceptance packet, elegantly stacked and left unopened on the kitchen table. It must’ve come after the initial letter. How cute. With a flick of her wrist, she shoves it away, and sends it flying across the floor. There was nothing exciting there, there was nothing interesting in yet another think tank offer, another MIT merit, another plea, coiled up in her father’s pristine lab coats and her mother’s expensive imported perfumes.

“Are you in a bad mood?”

Shiki doesn’t realize she’s shaking in the living room until Asuka’s clear tone cuts through the haze. Fog and lemongrass. 

Her jagged nails dig into her palm. When she unclenches her fists, she smells blood.

The front door, it’s open, Asuka is there, she leans against the entrance, one foot in and one foot out, dressed in darks and velveteen. Studio cologne, winter wind. Shiki hisses, and swings her self around, hands outstretched—and Asuka accepts her ire, her rage, with opens arms.

She wants ringed hands around her lovely throat. She wants to squeeze, so, so bad, dig her fingers in and leave purple-blue bruises behind, and nothing else. When did Asuka get so tall. They’re eye-level, heels and all, her hand cups Shiki’s cheek, and manicured nails press into soft skin.

“Try and figure it out for me, like we used to.”

“I’ll hypothesize, and you’ll tell me if I’m close or not.”

The edge in her voice isn’t lost on her, Shiki knows she’s asking for too much, but she needs it, she’s going to explode, it’s racing in her head, it’s boiling in her blood. Tell me, figure me out, you’re my fluoride, you’re my stability—

“Someone from abroad, this time? They want you back.” Asuka drags her hand down her face, down her neck, if she’s worried about the noose around her own, she does not show it. Instead, she busies herself with adjusting Shiki’s bathrobe, pulling the flimsy fabric up, over her shoulders. She secures the bow tie around her waist, and looks up, tilting her head.

“Maybe.”

“Last time you faced a proposal like this, you left the prefecture.”

Shiki smiles with her teeth, and Asuka sighs. The girl genius, her grip loosens, and her hands fall to her side. Asuka takes the opportunity to close and lock the front door, but the moment of respite ends as soon as it begins, and Shiki, selfish girl, mirthless girl, she yanks Asuka’s wrist and pulls her in. Further and further until they’re in Shiki’s room, the end all abyss.

Why is she so upset--it's stupid to ask those questions when they're a tangle of limbs and worse decisions, did she even check to see if Frederica was in the room across the hall, did she bother turning the lights off? (She's not home, and Asuka fumbles with the switch before drowning in a sea of Egyptian cotton.) 

Asuka’s extensions are purple today, and Shiki is careful to unclip them, but she doesn’t pay the same amount of attention to her photoshoot couture. Black coat, black blazer, black vest, a blouse the color of bloodwine. Her hands in her hair, her nails scrape against skin. Asuka pushes back, pulls on the stupid bathrobe, tugs on her gaudy costume jewelry until fake pearls spill on the hardwood floor. They fall prey to the piles of laundry, the fur coats and cheap t shirts, the shards that were once glass vials, and the piles upon piles of forgotten text books of histories once told.

“I’m thinking about going to the sea.” She gets out a thought between open mouth kisses. “Maybe forever, this time.” It would be easy, the train goes all the way to the airport, she can buy her ticket to Okinawa and never look back, there's nothing beyond white sand and a cold sun. 

“You’re the master of your own fate.” The phrase comes out in hot breaths, lips against skin and satin. Asuka shifts under her weight, and bites down on her neck. “But you always come back.”

It's softer. Kinder, a plea. Sweat and lemongrass, it all mixes together with a sad sort of pining that Shiki has grown to love and hate about Asuka Ninomiya. Shiki pins her down, but Asuka stares at her with her ever cool expression.

Yes, but what if this was the time, the final disappearing act. She’s done it so much before, she’s become so good at it. Going away, running head first into an uncertain future. They kiss.

There’s nothing romantic about the desperation that accompanies the saliva and body heat.

.

“It’s Harvard this time.” Shiki counts the freckles on Asuka’s shoulder. They lie in bed, in a fortress of their own creation. "They want me to be some sort of teacher. I don’t care.”

The dead-eye expression that follows is more commonplace than not, and Asuka brushes Shiki’s long hair back.

“Tell them to go to hell.”

“Asuuuu-chan,” The catlike smirk, the high pitch lilt—if this is the Shiki Ichinose she expects, then… “So cruel, so blunt.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not when we’re like this.”

The prodigal girl blinks. Asuka gets out of her bed, and picks up her clothes.

“I’ll make dinner tonight. When was the last time you ate?”

Shiki doesn’t answer. She thinks about the mess in the kitchen, and the empty refrigerator. The scraps of a grant and a full-ride.

Asuka sighs, but she does not look back, and that’s when Shiki thinks, in her sad, dark room. Maybe she wants her to.

(Anyone, anyone, would you just look at me.)

**Author's Note:**

> i think..............no promises........but if i keep writing about these two, it'll be in this. project. name thing.  
> whatever.  
> this takes place a couple of years into the future because . because.
> 
> ok. thanks.
> 
> \-- angie @oceanblogging


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